Happy New Year! We had a party December 31, which went well except for only about half the people showing up who said they would, and slept very late January 1. We visited the mothers, where Eric discovered a newfound love for Rock Band, and I ended up eating dinner late because (as usual) I knew I needed to eat but didn’t want to face food again.
But eventually hunger won, and as I devoured my dinner it occurred to me how very long it's going to be before I'm back to normal (assuming all goes well). Even my appetite will be abnormal for at least another year--once I get over the combined food aversion/ravening hunger that I'm currently experiencing, I'm told to expect just plain ravening hunger for the rest of the nine months, and after that I'll be eating some extra 500 calories a day or so to compensate for breastfeeding.
Then there are the obvious bodily changes, some temporary, some permanent; and then of course there will be the whole being-a-parent thing (and, in this case, expecting to be killed early on when our offspring decides he/she must break free from the parental nest in order to complete his/her conquest of the world), which means I'll never be the same again. This is daunting. Throw in the physical discomfort, and I'm not always 100% sure this was a good idea. I mean, I am, but I'm a little scared.
(But don't think that pregnancy is all bad. This not-bleeding-for-nine-months thing is awesome.)